


eyes closed

by writingdice



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: pet death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 04:42:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16885821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingdice/pseuds/writingdice
Summary: Stan adopted a cat when he was homeless.





	eyes closed

_“ The clouds hold_  
A storm over this road…  
You’re dreaming…  
Or at least you’ve got your eyes closed”

* * *

It was a tiny thing. A small ball of fluffy orange and brown-ish fur with big blue eyes. Stanley found it under his car one winter morning. He couldn’t possibly afford to keep it, to give it the care it needed.

But he couldn’t stand leaving the poor thing alone shivering in the cold of December.

He took it in his hands and drove away with it meowing softly on the passenger seat.

* * *

When Stan could he bought the food it needed and procured to keep it inside his coat, where the cold would be at least tolerable. They kept each other warm.

Some nights he couldn’t find peace of mind and stayed awake until the clock on his wrist read 5AM. On those nights the kitten seemed to know what was going on through his mind, and would stay by his side all night. Purring and snuggling closer to him.

Even if it couldn’t possibly make his past mistakes and heartache go away, it was nice to have him there and it made him feel… not so alone.

* * *

Stanley had never been one for pets; mostly because Filbrick would have never let him have one.

“Pets cost a lot of money. Who do you think it’s gonna be payin’ for its food?”, he would ask in a stern voice as little Stanley defleated under his eyes and gave up.

Stan took a look at the kitten sleeping on his chest and give it a crooked smile.

Maybe he could try…

* * *

The kitten died on a cloudy day. Stan held it on his arms, not sure of what was wrong as it cried and meowed in pain all morning.

Stan buried it on a highway near Oregon and made it a tombstone with a smooth rock and decorated it with some wild flowers that were growing on a side of the road.

It was all his fault.

He knew from the start that he could have never give it the food and shelter it needed, but he had wanted so desperately to keep it, to give it as much of a comfort he could…

He could have done more, could have tried harder.

Stan remembered all the hours they spent together and he could not stop the memories from coming to the front of his mind. It was such a small sweet thing. When it was hungry it liked to lick its own paw like a child would suck its thumb.

It would meow as some sort of “Hello” when Stan came back to the car with its food and it would move around impatiently until it was fed. Then it would cuddle near him and lick his palms as a “Thanks”. He had never felt so lucky and so happy to have someone by his side again.

And now it was gone, but he was still there.

“I should have given you a name”, he whispered quietly as he said his last goodbyes and left the tombstone behind.

* * *

They were out at sea, having just left port when Stanley remembered it.

He stood frozen, staring at the waves as he looked into the cloudy sky and the memories from that day, and all the days he spent with his cat came back to him.

“Stanley? What’s wrong?”, Stanford asked with confusion and concern.

Stan broke out sobbing like he hadn’t since he was a child. Ford embraced him and Stan clinged into the hug, sobbing on his brother’s neck, unable to tell him what had happened.

“I should have given it a name”, he kept mumbling in despair. Stuttering with a hoarse voice he kept saying it over and over again.

“I should have given it a name…”


End file.
